Dear Obama,
You are not "my" president. I am not recognizing you as "my" president nor am I considering any other person "my" president. For me, recognizing you as "my" president means that I agree with the system that you are perpetuating – and I don’t. Also, recognizing you as "my" president is not giving me "hope" for "change". And furthermore, recognizing you as "my" president would mean I am acknowledge you as my leader, but the only thing that I am following is my heart. Obama I am recognizing you as part of this universal family of life guided by love, and although I am not recognizing you as "my" president, I know you and I are "one".
I am not recognizing you as "my" president when the army you are "commanding" is killing people all over the world. I don’t agree with that system. I am not in agreement with sending more troops to Afghanistan, Iraq, or any other country on a path to peace. Choosing a "path to peace" that includes "shock and awe" strategies consisting of tons of bombs, bullets, and dead bodies is not liberating anybody nor bringing peace to anyone. I am agreeing with Mahatma Gandhi’s spirit saying that "there is no path to peace. Peace is the path." Planting a seed of violence can only produce violence; planting an orange tree will not produce apples. I am agreeing with Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh who says that "only deep listening, mindfulness and gentle communication can remove the wrong perceptions that are the foundation of violence."
I don’t recognize you as "my" president because I do not agree with the American myths being taught to the citzens of this "country" in the mandatory public education system, and dramatized by the media corporations, which hides the true nature of these systems. Christopher Columbus did not "discover" America and help initiate the spread of freedom and democracy, but rather intiated the invasion and occupation of the Anahuac continent. These lies are hiding the truth and setting the precedent for other nations like Israel, which is receiving military aid to keep exterminating the Arab people who’ve lived in Palestine for thousands of years. According to the Israeli myth, Palestine was "a land without a people for a people without a land."
Obama, I know that this government allowed the creation of a private bank in 1913 (the Federal Reserve Act, 1913) owned and operated by private bankers. I know that this bank prints money and loans it to the government at "interest" which helps keep the government in debt to these bankers who in turn have the power to manipulate the economy by raising and lowering interest and is allowing them to stage depressions and what not. This system is allowing these bankers to buy up other banks, corporations, and foreclosed homes when the economy collapses. I know these bankers practically own Wall Street and contributed the most money to your campaign and are receiving bailouts consisting of billions of dollars from taxes. I don’t agree with that system.
I am not recognizing your presidency as "hope" for "change." I know that in this universe the only thing that is constant "is" change. Change is happening every moment. I don’t need to have hope in anybody to bring change to this world, country, community, or myself because it is happening naturally, right now. I have faith in the great spirit of the universe. Most people call this unifying energy God and the Great Spirit, among other things, but I like to call it Love. Love is life. Life is love. It is one. I am not recognizing you as "my" president while you are running a system rooted in slavery. I am living to love and loving to live every moment which naturally brings "true change"; a change I can experience inside of me and all around. This change is guided by love inside of me and inside of everything else in this universe. No external force is giving me "hope" for a change to all the suffering in this American system. Change is happening naturally, we are not making it.
Obama, I believe that when we are born there is an energy called love which is leading our lives. The energy and the actions are "one." Love is the language of the heart which allows us to continue living. The heart is what is leading our lives, showing us how to breathe, digest, grow, etc. It is the only thing that is guiding all the actions I am taking and all the thoughts I am expressing…all the love I am living. I am listening to the heart because it has all the answers that I need. I know that everyone’s heart is holding all the answers they need to live free and there is no need for us to have an external leader. No external force is leading me or anyone else to freedom. Not democracy, nor technology, nor hope. Only faith. Faith in love. Faith in life. Believing that everything is "one" and constantly changing, living, loving. No amount of wealth or power is changing our life or leading it to "freedom and justice for all," it is simply perpetuating this system of lies. The truth is inside of us all and we are all one. Acknowledging our oneness can allow us to stop looking at external forces like terrorists, or "others" as being the cause of our troubles and allow us to find peace inside of ourselves.
Obama I am living the truth. I am living free. I don’t need you as "my" president. This is not a declaration of independence, this is a declaration of "interdependence." You are not "my" president but everything in life has a purpose and I am glad that I am here in this universe and you are here and we are "one."
Respectfully,
Jaime Agredano
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Whose Legacy?
Yadira Arroyo
El Reflejo should have attacked this measure before the voting took place. I know, I know.
Thankfully however, the Beach Legacy Referendum did not pass.
If it had passed, the BLR would have increased student fees at Cal State Long Beach by $95 per semester ($70 for a summer semester) starting in 2010 to fund athletic scholarships, a new soccer field, a new track, and a women’s something-or-other sports team so that the school wouldn’t lose a men’s sports team.
Well, it did not pass, so what use is it now to break down the arguments? No use really, except perhaps to record my own humble opinion. So, I won’t do that. At least not thoroughly. What I can’t seem to put aside though, were the peculiar events that took place on the first day of voting.
A bunch of us were scheduled to flyer at 2pm on Wednesday March 11. I marched to the Raza Center to gather the troops, but perhaps there had been a misunderstanding, or the revolution was not scheduled for that time and I missed the memo, because several of my peers seemed puzzled, or a bit lax when I announced, "It is time." I left the Center alone, with a stack of flyers that Indira, part of Students for Quality Education, had provided for us.
I called Julio, fellow Reflejo staff member and cartoonist extraordinaire, only to find he was actually way ahead of me, at that moment fighting the good fight at Maxson Plaza, right outside of Brotman Hall. I met him and Indira there.
Traffic was slow and we decided to move our actions to the walkway by the Psychology building and bookstore. Julio left and I was glad to see members from La Raza Student Association and FUEL arriving to replace him. There, we happily flyered – until they came.
Immediately, I could tell that they were athletes. The sweatpants and rowdiness gave the group of women away.
Cackling, they approached one of our allies, whose name I must apologize for forgetting, took flyers from him and asked him for more. And then…
Their fearless leader jumped on a bench, and standing on her toned and tanned legs announced:
"This is what I think of this!"
Rip. She tore one of our flyers to pieces as her teammates cheered her on. And as if that weren’t enough drama, she haughtily tossed the shreds in the trash.
I cringed at the sight. Suddenly, I was flooded with acid memories of high school, where the cheerleaders tormented the geeks, who for the most part, actually gave a fuck about shit. Except that wait – I was raised in South Central and I never went to a school like that. I realized then that I was confusing my life with the one portrayed in white teenager films and television shows like She’s All That, Popular, and Bring It On. That’s where those memories came from!
We continued to pass out flyers and encourage people to vote against the referendum. They continued to harass us – I mean, vouch for the BLR.
"You see her?" exclaimed the leader, pointing at me. "She doesn’t care about her school. She doesn’t care about school pride!"
And what could I say? It’s true, I don’t care about school pride. The last time I thought that sports and pride were essential to a fulfilling college experience, I was a goofy freshman who took pride in her bowling alley, pool tables, Panda Express and video arcade.
"She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!" she continued. "I bet she’s never even been to a basketball game…"
Her buddies roared, because I’m a loser, or an American freak, or something. But then came the kicker.
"…in her life!"
I was bewildered. I looked bewildered.
"Umm, what does basketball have to do with anything?" I turned and asked them.
And I was hoping they’d let me in on the secret. Like, watching basketball has been proven to quicken the path towards graduation. Or basketball is the ultimate embodiment of coolness, like being sexually active. But it doesn’t come.
"Why are you voting ‘No’?" one of them asks me.
"I am voting ‘No’ because I cannot afford to pay for tuition. I had to drop to part-time this semester and even then, it’s difficult to pay."
But, they were armed with the perfect rebuttals. I was no match.
"Wow! Is that the only reason you’re voting against it?"
More cackles.
"Did you know that Cal State Long Beach is one of the best value colleges in the nation? Top 3! You’re paying some of the cheapest tuition anywhere in the States!"
My demands were ludicrous.
"Yeah, and I still cannot afford it."
Somehow, the "I’m one of those for-real broke people," message was not getting across. How could I sit down and tell them of my parents’ financial woes? How could I explain to them that because my parents own property, I cannot receive grants?
And so, they continued. I felt like I was at an anti-war protest. Their "She has no school pride!" taunts reminded me of "You’re not an American!"
I’ve been wondering this whole week whether I can pull the race card on this one. As I looked around that day, I noticed that those of us flyering were Latino, and most of the BLR supporters were white. They wore "Beach Gear" and looked primp and proper. But perhaps the class card would be more fitting.
The results of the elections made me happy, made me believe in people a little bit. Certainly, the economy had a lot to do with the referendum not passing. The majority of voting students saw their request as ludicrous.
As I have flashbacks from that action, the cackling of Cal State Long Beach’s women’s basketball team echoes in my memory. This was but one small victory in the battle for more equal access to higher education. And I can laugh my ass off and gloat in self-righteousness too, but I have more class than that. ¶
El Reflejo should have attacked this measure before the voting took place. I know, I know.
Thankfully however, the Beach Legacy Referendum did not pass.
If it had passed, the BLR would have increased student fees at Cal State Long Beach by $95 per semester ($70 for a summer semester) starting in 2010 to fund athletic scholarships, a new soccer field, a new track, and a women’s something-or-other sports team so that the school wouldn’t lose a men’s sports team.
Well, it did not pass, so what use is it now to break down the arguments? No use really, except perhaps to record my own humble opinion. So, I won’t do that. At least not thoroughly. What I can’t seem to put aside though, were the peculiar events that took place on the first day of voting.
A bunch of us were scheduled to flyer at 2pm on Wednesday March 11. I marched to the Raza Center to gather the troops, but perhaps there had been a misunderstanding, or the revolution was not scheduled for that time and I missed the memo, because several of my peers seemed puzzled, or a bit lax when I announced, "It is time." I left the Center alone, with a stack of flyers that Indira, part of Students for Quality Education, had provided for us.
I called Julio, fellow Reflejo staff member and cartoonist extraordinaire, only to find he was actually way ahead of me, at that moment fighting the good fight at Maxson Plaza, right outside of Brotman Hall. I met him and Indira there.
Traffic was slow and we decided to move our actions to the walkway by the Psychology building and bookstore. Julio left and I was glad to see members from La Raza Student Association and FUEL arriving to replace him. There, we happily flyered – until they came.
Immediately, I could tell that they were athletes. The sweatpants and rowdiness gave the group of women away.
Cackling, they approached one of our allies, whose name I must apologize for forgetting, took flyers from him and asked him for more. And then…
Their fearless leader jumped on a bench, and standing on her toned and tanned legs announced:
"This is what I think of this!"
Rip. She tore one of our flyers to pieces as her teammates cheered her on. And as if that weren’t enough drama, she haughtily tossed the shreds in the trash.
I cringed at the sight. Suddenly, I was flooded with acid memories of high school, where the cheerleaders tormented the geeks, who for the most part, actually gave a fuck about shit. Except that wait – I was raised in South Central and I never went to a school like that. I realized then that I was confusing my life with the one portrayed in white teenager films and television shows like She’s All That, Popular, and Bring It On. That’s where those memories came from!
We continued to pass out flyers and encourage people to vote against the referendum. They continued to harass us – I mean, vouch for the BLR.
"You see her?" exclaimed the leader, pointing at me. "She doesn’t care about her school. She doesn’t care about school pride!"
And what could I say? It’s true, I don’t care about school pride. The last time I thought that sports and pride were essential to a fulfilling college experience, I was a goofy freshman who took pride in her bowling alley, pool tables, Panda Express and video arcade.
"She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!" she continued. "I bet she’s never even been to a basketball game…"
Her buddies roared, because I’m a loser, or an American freak, or something. But then came the kicker.
"…in her life!"
I was bewildered. I looked bewildered.
"Umm, what does basketball have to do with anything?" I turned and asked them.
And I was hoping they’d let me in on the secret. Like, watching basketball has been proven to quicken the path towards graduation. Or basketball is the ultimate embodiment of coolness, like being sexually active. But it doesn’t come.
"Why are you voting ‘No’?" one of them asks me.
"I am voting ‘No’ because I cannot afford to pay for tuition. I had to drop to part-time this semester and even then, it’s difficult to pay."
But, they were armed with the perfect rebuttals. I was no match.
"Wow! Is that the only reason you’re voting against it?"
More cackles.
"Did you know that Cal State Long Beach is one of the best value colleges in the nation? Top 3! You’re paying some of the cheapest tuition anywhere in the States!"
My demands were ludicrous.
"Yeah, and I still cannot afford it."
Somehow, the "I’m one of those for-real broke people," message was not getting across. How could I sit down and tell them of my parents’ financial woes? How could I explain to them that because my parents own property, I cannot receive grants?
And so, they continued. I felt like I was at an anti-war protest. Their "She has no school pride!" taunts reminded me of "You’re not an American!"
I’ve been wondering this whole week whether I can pull the race card on this one. As I looked around that day, I noticed that those of us flyering were Latino, and most of the BLR supporters were white. They wore "Beach Gear" and looked primp and proper. But perhaps the class card would be more fitting.
The results of the elections made me happy, made me believe in people a little bit. Certainly, the economy had a lot to do with the referendum not passing. The majority of voting students saw their request as ludicrous.
As I have flashbacks from that action, the cackling of Cal State Long Beach’s women’s basketball team echoes in my memory. This was but one small victory in the battle for more equal access to higher education. And I can laugh my ass off and gloat in self-righteousness too, but I have more class than that. ¶
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